Love At First Sight
by Angela
Summary: Sam falls in love - sort of


Title: Love At First Sight  
  
Author: Angela  
  
Summary: The beginning of floppage. Don't know what that is? Watch some  
  
scenes of Sam on Toby's couch. That's floppage.  
  
Time: Before the first episode, so no spoilers  
  
Disclaimer: Technically, the characters belong to some people behind the scenes of  
  
the west wing. In every way that truly matters, Sam belongs to Mr. Rob Lowe.  
  
This story is dedicated to him, and all the loyal fans of Sam and Rob.  
  
  
  
Love At First Sight  
  
"Can you believe it? We're actually in the White House," Sam said. He looked like he had just won the lottery. No, he looked like he just found definitive proof that there really was a Santa Claus  
  
"Yes," his boss answered. He was sitting at his desk, computer and printer already set up.  
  
"This is your office?" Sam asked, stepping in and looking around.  
  
"Yes." Toby wasn't in the mood for chit chat. But, he never was in the mood for chit chat.  
  
"It's nice." Silence from the other man. "So, I suppose the one over there is mine." A withering look. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."  
  
Toby sighed. "Where were you?"  
  
"I was helping Josh move some of his stuff into his office."  
  
"Well, I could have used your help. Considering that your office is all furnished now. I even put that flag of yours up."  
  
"I'm sorry. I would have come up to help you, but...." his voice trailed off.  
  
"Sam? Sam? You were with Josh. Please don't tell me the two of you managed to do something stupid on the first day in the White House." He looked at Sam, who was no longer facing him, and apparently hadn't heard a word he said. He called his name again. Nothing. Then he literally got up and stood in front of Sam, waving his hand in front of the younger man's face.  
  
Sam blinked and shook his head. "Where did you get *that*?" he asked, pointing.  
  
Toby looked at what had mesmerized Sam so much. All he saw was the old couch he brought in from his apartment. "The couch?" he asked, to make sure.  
  
Sam didn't answer but moved towards the couch. Toby barely had time to get out of his way. When he was immediately in front of it, he sat down. No, that wasn't right. He *flopped* down with a look of - Toby tried to find the word. The closest was ecstasy, but surely that couldn't be it. It was just a couch.  
  
"Are you okay?" Toby didn't usually offer words of concern, but he did wonder if his deputy had some serious mental issues that hadn't come out during the campaign.  
  
Sam leaned back, with a blissful look on his face. "It's even more comfortable than it looks. "  
  
"Well, now that my couch has met the Sam Seaborn test of excellence, would you mind getting off of it and doing some work?"  
  
The change would have been comical if Toby wasn't already becoming a little scared. Immediately after he said that, Sam's face fell. He looked like someone had handed him a puppy, than snatched it back. And then kicked the puppy. And then kicked *him*.  
  
Immediately after *that* he got a crafty look on his face. People wouldn't believe Sam could look crafty. The image Sam presented to the world was earnest, passionate, forthright. And it was all true. But, working and arguing with him over every syllable of every speech they had written during the campaign had taught Toby a couple of things. Sam wasn't one to give up when he believed he was right, and when he couldn't get things done the typical Sam way, he'd resort to playing dirty. If Toby thought a section of the speech was too flag waving, banners flying, idealistic fairytale writing, Sam would suddenly change into Mr. Practical. He'd make it all sound so sensible, so logical, and pragmatic. And, before Toby knew what hit him, the President would be giving the speech, banners flying section and all. And Sam would stand there listening, with a kind of innocent pride on his face, which would make Toby offer up a prayer of gratitude that Sam was on their side.  
  
Yes, Toby was familiar with Crafty Sam. The first time he ran into this version convinced him that his new deputy wasn't too green and innocent to make it in the big cruel world, or work for him either. However, it was odd to see it being applied in this circumstance.  
  
"Have you written a welcome speech?" he asked?  
  
"A what speech?"  
  
"I think the President should get all the White House staff together and give them a welcome speech. You know, thank them for joining in to help him serve the country, telling them they don't just work for him, but he works for them - for all Americans. It would be a good way to set the tone for the rest of the term."  
  
Toby thought about it for a second. It was just like Sam to suggest something like that. But, it wasn't a bad idea. It was a good one, and played into the folksy image they sometimes cultivated for the President. "I suppose when you say the whole staff, you mean all the way down to the cleaning crew?" He had a feeling that's just what Sam meant, but he wanted to make sure.  
  
"It would be elitist if we didn't, wouldn't it? Especially if the press was to get wind of it. But, we probably couldn't find a way to leak an informal Presidential pep talk without making it seem staged. Could we?" Sam looked hopeful.  
  
"Back up there, Sam. Do you have a welcome speech written for him?" Toby's head was swimming.  
  
"I have a few notes scribbled down." Well, of course he did. "I didn't want to be too exact, because I think this is one time where he should be allowed to ad lib a bit, or it won't sound sincere. We just need to give him a framework to keep him on track. Here, you want to take a look?" He handed Toby the crumbled sheets of paper from his pocket.  
  
"If you're going to let the President ad lib, this had better be some rock solid 'framework'. Oh, this is no good. Hmm, that's fine. Shouldn't there be a period somewhere in there? Or a comma? You want him to pass out from lack of air? Nice. Uh - huh." Toby went to his desk and rummaged for a pen. He started scratching out lines and adding his own. He got so absorbed, he didn't notice when Sam swung his legs up over the side of the couch, with a self satisfied grin on his face. Oh, it would be awhile before he vacated the spot. 


End file.
